


Bedroom Hymns

by imperatorkhaleesi



Series: Thunderboy and Human Bae Chronicles [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Post-Ragnarok, sexy things happen friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperatorkhaleesi/pseuds/imperatorkhaleesi
Summary: Set after Ragnarok.Beatrix is out of her mind with worry, wondering just what the hell happened to Thor.Thor comes back to Midgard and makes it up to her in the best way possible.A sort-of sequel to "Lights". A sequel for a story in the series that I haven't published yet.





	Bedroom Hymns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [captainafroelf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainafroelf/gifts).



> Title: Bedroom Hymns by Florence + The Machine

Two months, eight days, 22 hours and 19 minutes.

She hadn’t meant to keep track; it just sort of happened. In a fit of anxious fear, she’d done the math: Thor kissed her on the Avengers tower helipad and said he would be back soon and not to worry almost nine weeks ago, and she’d kissed him back, pulled him into an extra tight hug, and let him go before she started crying. They did this dance often, but it never got easier for either of them.

But this…this was unprecedented. He’d always find a way back to her. Find a way to send her a sign; a message through Steve, a letter delivered from Fury, fucking runes burnt into her roof via the Bifrost, goddamn _something_. But this time, three weeks into his absence, nothing came. Steve checked in on her then; he hadn’t heard from Thor either and he hoped that she might know something. Fury checked in a little while after, just to see how she was doing, and that’s when she knew something was grievously wrong.

She cried then, for a few days, the fear of what could keep him away and silent so long beginning to consume her. She turned her emotions off soon after, throwing herself into work, but the longer it went on, (three months, fourteen days, six hours and 27 minutes) the harder it became for her to work on her research, the more she thought about him, being hurt somewhere, dead somewhere, the more she shut down, and the cycle continued. She felt herself slip sliding back into depression, and she knew that Thor wouldn’t want that, but avoiding it felt impossible. But she buckled down and tried to stay sane, even as the battle got harder and the hill got steeper.

Four months, twenty six days, 12 hours, and 6 minutes.

She was asleep on the couch, burrowed under one of the capes Thor left in her apartment when it happened. The floor by her kitchen creaked, gently joltingher awake. Her eyes alighted upon a tall, broad shouldered mass of shadow standing by the front hall and she sighed; Bucky had gotten into the habit of coming over to check on her, after he and Geneva hadn’t been able to contact her for a few days, and found her barricaded in her bedroom, crying silently. She was grateful, admittedly; she hadn’t been that low in weeks, but it was nice to know that he and her other friends cared enough about her to break into her apartment just to check in on her. But sometimes, she simply didn’t feel like talking to anyone, and in those instances, Bucky’s overly-protective brother shtick annoyed her.

“If that’s Bucky,” she began, stretching and curling deeper into herself. “I’m fine, I just fell asleep. If that’s not Bucky, I’m an easy robbery, take whatever you want and leave. Just don’t take my laptop please, my dissertation is on it. And if you have other nefarious designs, I have a gun and most of the Avengers on speed dial.”

“What if I’m neither?” Beatrix’s eyes shot open. She fell off her couch and scrambled over to the lamp, Thor’s cape thrown across her shoulders. Her heart raced as her eyes landed on him; she’d be convinced he was a hallucination if he didn’t look so…different. His hair was short, cropped close to his scalp; he wore dark, scarred leather, and a ragged grey cape. But she looked at him, and Thor smiled wide at her, his blue eyes twinkling, and she knew. She ran toward him, and he scooped her up, holding her close and kissing her like the world would end if he stopped.

Thor could feel her heart racing, thrumming against him, and he held her closer, kissing her harder, shaking as they came up for air.

“Hello,” he murmured. Beatrix let out a soft laugh that made his heart leap in his chest. Gods on high, how he _missed_ that sound.

“Hi,” she whispered against his lips. “It’s been a while.” Thor lowered her to her feet but still held her close, cupping her face in his hands. He smiled as he stared at her, re-memorizing the planes of her face, the shape of her mouth, the exact color of her eyes.

“Your hair is red,” he murmured, his fingers winding into her soft wavy twist out. Beatrix reached up and held the nape of his neck, running her fingers along the short hair.

“Your hair is _gone_ ,” she replied, smiling. Her eyes locked on his. “I like it.”

“Do you?” Thor ran his fingers across her jaw, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s far less for you to yank upon.”

Beatrix let out a soft chuckle and let her nails drift down from his crown to the nape of his neck. He groaned, softly, shivering as she gripped his shoulder.

“I’m creative, we’ll figure something out,” she murmured, biting her bottom lip. Heat flared low in his belly as he nudged her lip out from between her teeth with his thumb. That smile, Bor’s spirit, the memory of that got him through many a sleepless night. She was, impossibly, wildly, more beautiful now than she was in his memory. His heart ached from the memory of his longing, from the anticipation of the coming reunion.

The shadows around her eyes were deeper, her body thinner and lighter in his arms. He could only imagine how horrible the time had been for her. He felt awful, desperate to make it up, _somehow_.

His hand flexed and he pulled her forward again, crushing their mouths together. He walked her backward, slowly until her thighs met the arm of her couch and she gasped, gripping his shoulders to steady herself. His tongue slowly worked into her mouth, his teeth bumping against hers. He broke away, grinning at the dazed expression on her face.

“I sorely missed that look,” he whispered against her lips. Beatrix nipped his bottom lip and matched his grin.

“Show me how much.”

By the time he lifted her, wrapped her legs around his waist and crashed their way into her bedroom, they were both too far gone to ask or answer any questions.

 

He was battle-scarred, she noticed; his arms, neck, and presumably the rest of him were all covered in fresh ones, the new tissue hard against her hands as she touched him, kissed them. He was bigger too, all over; his arms thicker, shoulders somehow broader, his muscles more defined. Goddamn, he fucking felt _good_ , the calluses on his hands rough against her thighs, the thick, chapped leather stretching across his chest leaving tiny scratches on her arms, his beard rubbing her lips raw. She took her time, savoring the sturdy feel of him against her, his strong, solid body hoisting her up, handling her deftly, as gently and confidently as he always did.

He sank down onto the edge of her bed, running his hands under his old cape (she kept it, he thought, his heart warm and full as he felt the fabric of his favorite cape rub against her skin; it smelled like her now, warm and light, sweet, citrusy), under her sweater dress, burying his face in her neck, biting her skin; she ran her hands up his arms and held his face, held his gaze with hers, then pulled at the layers he wore.

“This needs to come off,” she whispered against his mouth. She felt his smile as his hands slid down and off her body, pulling his leather and undershirt over his head. His breath quickened as his bare chest came into contact with her hands, his erection straining against his pants. She was soft all over, just like always, pretty smelling skin, pliant thighs, pillowy lips and all. He pushed his cape (though it really was hers now, he mused; if he took it back, it would be like having her there with him, he’d smell her on it every minute) off her shoulders and bit his bottom lip, his hands dropping to her hips and slowly lifting her dress over her head.

“These too,” he replied. Then traced a finger over the lace of her bra. “Especially this. It’s very lovely, but…” he leaned forward, pressing his lips against her collarbone, brushing her straps off her shoulders and down her arms. Beatrix spilled out of the cups; his mouth fastened around a nipple, his tongue going over and over until it was hard, then over the other one, her soft, breathy noises and her grip on the back of his neck and shoulder egging him on. He broke away to pull her bra completely off, unfastening it with a practiced pinch of his thumb and forefinger. “It looks far better off, don’t you think?”

Beatrix reached between her legs and gently unlaced his breeches. He squeezed her ass, pulling her tight against him, groaning as she finally got him in her hands, warm and hard and heavy. Her fingers tightened around him, ever so slightly, and stroked him, smiling into his heavy, shaky breaths. He cursed, low, soft and she let out a small chuckle, her pace gently speeding. Thor opened his eyes, his gaze hot and heavy on her. Before she could think to speak, he’d pushed her panties to the side, two of his thick, long fingers swirling into her core.

“Fuck,” she sighed. Beatrix had been making do with her fingers for the past few months. She managed to make herself come, but it wasn’t the same as this, having Thor here, his breath on her neck, his lips on her skin, his fingers slowly slipping in and out of her as she stroked him.

“Thor,” she whispered, against his collarbone. “ _Please_.” He kissed along her jaw, gently, then turned them over and kneeled, pulling her panties down her shaking legs as he went. She raised her leg, pressed her heel against his waist, just above his pants, and dragged her foot down, until he took the hint and yanked them off.

“Merciful Bor,” he breathed, staring at her. She was a feast to his eyes, the fulfillment of many wishes made over many long, arduous days and nights. There were hundreds that featured in his dreams, dozens of dreams spent holding her close, listening to her heartbeat, holding her close as she worked, lying with her as she read to him. Those would come, soon. For now, he needed this. They both did.

He pressed his palms against her hips, pressed his chest against hers, kissed her, his breath hitching as she smiled against his mouth, her legs going around his waist again. He ran his fingers along her jaw, tipped her chin up to kiss her throat as he slowly pressed his cock into her.

“Oh…” she sighed, her voice high and breathy. Thor pressed an open mouthed kiss to her shoulder, his breath heavy on her skin. She was tight. He’d expected it, but mercy, he hadn’t expected _this_. He was almost afraid to move, forcing himself into stillness as she writhed underneath him, her breath shallow, her cunt fluttering around him, slowly readjusting to his girth. “ _Fuck._ ” Thor thrusted into her, steady, sharply, cursing against her collar bone as she clenched around him, winding her hips, letting out a soft whimper with every stroke. She raked her nails down his back, her knees tight on his hips; Thor’s back arched, his cock sliding impossibly deeper into her, pushing her higher up onto the bed. Thor began to shake, his mouth pressing against her lips, her neck, her shoulders. It’d been so long, he’d been looking forward to this moment for _so fucking long_ , he wasn’t going to ruin it.

Thor slowed, sliding himself out of her, and rolled over, lying on his back and pulling her down, groaning as she took every inch of him. He bit his bottom lip as he watched her, her hips rolling forward, her hands on top of his, her body long and beautiful in the moonlight as she rode him, her eyes bright and gorgeous, her little gasps sending lightning strikes straight down his spine to his cock. His thumb brushed through her pubic mound and down to her clit, and he began to work it in circles, watching as she went rigid on him, as she began to beg, her words nonsensical, a mix of languages and tenses. She rode him harder, as his thumb gradually pressed harder, as his left hand went around her back and forced her spine to stay straight, forced her to arch her back as she sank down onto him, her hands wrapping around his forearms.

“Please, _fuck_ , right _there,_ ” she whimpered. Thor held her tighter and pistoned his hips, watching as she began to shake above him, breath catching in her throat, a sharp, wild whine breaking out of her on every stroke, her half lidded eyes intent on him.

“Thor,” she sighed; she clenched around him and he gasped, his hips stuttering, but continued on, sinking his cock into her, faster and faster. “Babe, I’m gonna come.”

“Good,” he grunted; he pressed into her clit harder and stared up at her as she let out a soft grunt, his gaze warm and lovingly fond. “I want to watch you fall apart.” Her breath caught in her throat, sharp, and she shuddered over him, whining as her nails sunk into his forearms, her pussy clenching around him. Thor expected her to stop, to at least slow, but she kept going, riding him faster. She pulled his hands off her waist and held them down against the bed, fucking him through her orgasm.

Thor let out a low moan. He was certain he was going to die here, and (considering how expertly Beatrix was riding him) he couldn’t be bothered to be upset about it. Quite the contrary. He was ecstatic. And were he capable of forming full sentences instead of short, staccato bursts of filthy Norse and low, sharp, rumbling moans, he would, at the very least, mention that.

But Beatrix is impossibly good at fucking him into silence. Almost as good as he is at fucking her into her mattress. Which is certainly almost as good as teasing those wanting, thirsty little moans out of her, which is nearly as good as looking down at her when she’s laid out before him, legs spread, chest heaving as he fucks into her, which is nearly as good as—

Beatrix’s cunt tightened around him and he spasmed, shaking underneath her, his hands closing into tight fists.

“Fucking Ymir’s bones,” he gasped. She was gorgeous, warm and wet and tight around him, slipping and sliding against his cock, her soft, thick thighs gliding across his own. He looked up at her, and she was smiling, panting, throwing her head back as she rolled her hips forward, fast. Thor’s eyes traced the line of her torso, the way the moonlight shined on her skin, the way her tits bounced as she took him, over and over again.

Fuck, he’s praying he dies here. It would be a gift.

“Let me—”

“No.” Thor’s arms shook in her grip; he wanted to throw her over, hold her tight against him, grip her ass, hold her still while he fucked into her, but this was too good, far too good to motivate him to pull out of her, even for a second. There was time for that, later. He leaned into it, the feel of her on him, around him. He was here, with her; the ache he felt for so long was finally being healed. He was shaking, feeling her clench tight around him with every stroke.

“Please,” he sighed, over and over again. Beatrix leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss to his mouth, biting his bottom lip as she shifted forward, changing the angle slightly. Her second orgasm came harder, sharper, and she locked eyes with him, moaning loud and shaky, tight around him as she shook on him. He was gone. Thor came, bucking under her, rolling his hips slow, groans stuttering out of the back of his throat. Beatrix shivered, falling against his chest and he hugged her close, letting out a sharp breath as he slid his cock out of her. They fell silent, panting softly, until he pressed a kiss into her crown and sighed.

“Realms eternal, I missed you,” he murmured. Beatrix let out a soft giggle.

“I missed you too, Sparky,” she replied. Thor peered down at her, his expression incredulous.

“ _Sparky?_ ” Beatrix smiled up at him, reaching up to brush a hand through his short hair. A shiver rattled down his spine. Heat rose in him again, but he pushed it away. Later. She was already yawning, falling asleep in his arms. He’d dreamt about this too, in his cell, holding her while she slept. He’d enjoy this just as much as the other.

“Yes. Sparky. When I disappear for months on end and return in the middle of the night, you can give me a ridiculous nickname then.”

“I imagine I’ll take a shine to it eventually,” he grumbled, laying his head back on the pillows. He reached over to the other side of the bed and pulled his cape over them, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“You don’t have to like it,” she yawned, snuggling closer to him. “It amuses me, and that’s what really matters.” Thor scoffed, smiling down at her.

“Well, when it’s phrased in that way…”

“Yep.” Silence passed between them. Then…

“Thor?”

“Mm?”

“What ha…” she let loose a vicious yawn before she could finish her question. He shushed her, kissing her into silence.

“We shall speak in the morn, I promise.”

“Alright,” she snuggled tight into the crook of his arm and reached under her arm to hold his hand. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. I love you, _minn sváss,_ ” he whispered as she drifted off to sleep.

 

Beatrix slowly blinked her way back into consciousness around 7 am. She knew this because she could feel Thor’s lips pressing lightly against her neck. She squirmed, but made no move to pull away from him. She could feel his smile against her throat, his whiskers scratching gently against her neck.

“Wake up, little dove,” he whispered. Beatrix huffed, smiling despite herself.

“I forgot my alarm had the gentle setting,” she sighed. “It’s been a while, I don’t remember how to turn it off.” He peppered kisses along her jaw, then down her throat and across her collarbone.

“The opposite has always appeared to be the goal for you, _minn sváss._ ” Beatrix cracked her eye open and looked over her shoulder at him.

“Oh, so you got jokes, huh.” Thor rested his chin on her arm and smiled.

“You aren’t laughing, so they don’t appear to be very effective.”

“It’s not the jokes,” Beatrix turned over and propped her head up with a pillow. “It’s this. I keep expecting to really wake up and you won’t be here.” Thor quieted, hugged her close, turning his head to press his ear against her chest, listening to her heartbeat, thrumming strong under her warm skin.

“I’m so sorry, sweet.” Beatrix reached up and around him and ran her fingers through his bristly hair, sighing as she stared up at the ceiling. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, they both knew, but understanding.

“What happened?” Thor stroked her side with his thumb in slow, hypnotic circles, for a long moment.

“I was captured.” He felt her tense under him, holding him tighter and closer to her. He smiled, softly; it comforted him, to remember that she wanted to protect him as much as he protected her.

“What happened?”

“Nothing I was incapable of handling, little dove.”

“Are you okay?” He looked up at her.

“Do I not appear okay?” She met his gaze and gave him the most serious look she could muster.

“I noticed that you didn’t bring Mjolnir with you.” Thor sighed, his eyes shutting briefly as his head went back to rest on her sternum.

“That…is…a very long story. One that I’m not entirely prepared to divulge at the moment.”

“Okay. That’s fine. But I need you to answer my question, Thor.” He looked up at her again, and thought, his eyes tracking over the freckles spread across her pretty dark brown cheeks.

“I am, at this moment, okay. Far better than okay, considering where I am.”

“Alright. Good.”

“And you, little dove?” She let out a heavy sigh. Then shut her eyes. Then opened them.

“You’re not dead. I’m not dead. Or dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or suffering from a psychotic break. I hope. I’m doing better this week than I was last week. So yes. I am, at this moment, okay.”

Thor kissed her sternum and smiled.

“Okay.”

“Alright.” She smiled down at him as he snuggled closer to her.

“God, you really missed me didn’t you?”

“As a galaxy misses it’s stars, _minn sváss_.”

“Poetic. And Thor?”

“Mm?”

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> So captainafroelf (who wrote "Brown Sugar and Honey" and the series "Rebehold the Stars" and "From The Same Star" and "When It's Over We Can Begin" [READ HER FICS, BIH!!!]) very kindly asked me to write a Thor fic after That Muhfuckin Trailer came out and I was only too happy to oblige because THAT MUHFUCKIN TRAILER BIH. But I'm still working on the actual sequel to "Lights" and I got waylaid by "Glass & Patron" so I just wrote a new oneshot set a little further out, because how could I not?
> 
> Hope y'all liked it!
> 
> (In case you're wondering, "minn sváss" means "my beloved" in old Norse. Though I looked it up without all the way verifying so for all I know it could mean "crunchy lettuce".)


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